The Distinguished Gentlemans Ride 2015

Yes, I know I don't qualify in either of these categories, but thought I would go along anyway!This happens every year, and is to raise awareness and money to fund research into Prostate Cancer. Predominantly for bikers, the idea is to dress up in outlandish attire, and ride in convoy. Alan and I met at Wolfs Head Crossroads, and followed the A5 to Llangollen, then on into Rhyl via breakfast at The Ponderosa. The ride I took part in was from Rhyl, via Colwyn Bay, Llandudno, and ending up in Conway. Our return was via Betws y Coed, Llangynog, Llanfyllin, Llanfechain, Llansantffraid, and Llynclys before going our separate way at Knockin. In all, just over 200 miles-and what a beautiful day it was too!You may not realise, that this form of cancer is very often a 'silent killer'-that is, no symptons until it may be too late. With regular screening, it can be detected early, which can vastly increase survival rates. Although an examination is NOT the most pleasurable experience, I would strongly advise everyone to undertake one-I have.On a lighter note, here are some pictures from the day (27th. September 2015). Many of the riders entered into the spirit-care to join in next year? Here's the link:https://www.gentlemansride.com/

Isle of Wight-Craven Arms Massive style!

After the longest three days at work Thursday morning had arrived. I said fair well to the wife and kissed the dogs goodbye, and set off to meet Shuke as planned at 6am. As usual, he was late-after a short delay it was on to Ludlow to pick up the third amigo Nick, he was early. We left with the sun shining and clear blue skies-what could go wrong? Well, another 15 miles up the road and the rain came out to wipe the silly smiles off our faces, but thankfully didn't last too long. The rest of the trip sailed by with only 2 fuel/fag stops and time for breckie at a truck stop, then on to Southampton. We had made good time and were well in front of the rest of the massive [wives and friends] so thought it only fair to have a well-earned beer! The others arrived and thought they deserved a well-earned beer too, so we had another as well. By now time was moving on and we still had to park a car at the fire station over a mile away, so, me on the scoot and John in his car set off still pleased with ourselves at this time. When we arrived there was a problem with a missing parking permit [not my fault your honour] and then Shuke rang to say the 2 o’clock ferry actually leaves at 2 o’clock (fairly obvious, I would have thought!). It was now 1.45 and a mile away in heavy traffic. Shuke said he would leave my boarding pass at the gate and he couldn't hang around as he had a ferry to catch. So, with a little lane filtering, a few amber lights, and some serious queue jumping, we arrived. The nice lady said she would let us on just for the sheer panic in our eyes and radioed the boat to say there was 1 more. The nasty lady on the gate never had her radio on so shut the gate and refused to budge. The nice man on the top deck had heard it all and called us up the ramp. The gate slammed behind us we had made it. We went to find the others who were in the ....bar-not very concerned at all! Tents up and the girls went off to Tesco for supplies mainly-beer, bacon, and bangers and the usual stuff. Thursday night was spent on site with a DJ keeping us all out past our bed times. Friday morning was spent in town looking at scoots and the new wave arriving every hour as another ferry landed. Friday night soon came, and it was off to see the two live bands at the site-they was good but not my cup of tea. But, with two other rooms to choose from there was something for everyone. Saturday morning seemed to come around very quickly, but the sun was shining. So, after a round of bacon butties and a nice brew it was off to the custom show and a walk around the traders village. By early afternoon it started to rain a bit so it was all round to Shukes ‘big top’ for beer and silly games. Saturday night is a favourite of ours as its the annual trip to The Star to see the Wooly Bully DJ. Aa good mix of reggae and comedy songs to get any pub bouncing. Imagine how happy we were to arrive to see a young lad on his guitar and another on an orange box. I’m shure they would have been good but if looks could kill Shuke would be eating porridge and cuddled up to Mr Big for the night-we left. Luckily we walked down to the next pub only to find the Wooly Bully boys who had swapped pubs-a top night was had by all, and at one point had a young slightly overweight Jimmy {Shuke} on a balcony {small chair}with the whole pub chanting jump jump jump just as he slipped off. On the way home we gave the people on the bus a few rally classic songs from the jungle book. The bus driver looked as though he loved it but as he was the only sober one it was hard to tell-he may have been sarcastic? Sunday morning came around too quickly as well, the sun was blazing. We went on the ride out but stopped short at the end for a carvery lunch with real green veg and everything! Sun night was the last mad dash to the bar and some good music to finish. Monday morning had the rain we had been promised so we packed the tents and set of for the soggy ride home, but with the thoughts of a brilliant weekend in our heads and some classic ear worms for company. Roll on 2016-if anyone wants to join us next year you’re more than welcome, you will just have to bulk up a bit as the t shirts are massive :} Tony Trow

First Anniversary

Jersey 2015When Rick and I went to Jersey in 2014 to get married we both fell in love with the island, but somehow our hire car just didn't cut it as a way of getting around coast roads and winding country lanes.We knew we wanted to go back, but we also knew we needed a scooter.As soon as we'd booked flights and hotel for our return trip in July 2015, we started making enquiries.There were plenty of places to hire an auto, but it just wouldn't be the same.We decided to ask the people in the know, and found the Facebook group for the Jersey Scooter Club, aka LQQTTAD SC (I'll tell you what that stands for later).Two members of the club very quickly replied to our message.No, there was nowhere on the island that we could hire a real scoot, but we could borrow one if we wanted!Day one of our trip was mostly taken up with adjusting to our surrounding (going to the pub), but on day 2 Michael Fitzgerald came to pick us up from our hotel and take us to get his spare scoot.Michael told us the history of the scoot's appearance on the way over – he's fiercely proud of his Scottish roots, so some mates did his scoot up at at a rally with Union Jack stickers.They wouldn't all come off, so the legshields are now pretty much covered with St Andrew's crosses.Our ride for the week was an LML with a 172 kit, perfect for twos up on country roads.The main challenge for a scooter on Jersey is the heavy traffic in St Helier town centre, but the LML succeeded where many Lammies have failed.Our first trip out took us from St Helier along St Aubin's bay to Noirmont Point.Jersey was occupied by the Nazis during WW2, and their main architectural legacy was one hell of a lot of concrete.Everywhere you go there is evidence of German fortifications, and the gun emplacement at Noirmont is a stark reminder of just how close to home the Nazis got. Visible round the corner is a Martello tower on the tiny island of Ile au Guerdin in Portelet Bay, which is well worth a visit, especially the Old Portelet Inn, where we stopped for a half in the finest traditions of the Coffee Club.Nowhere is far from anywhere else in Jersey, as the island is only 9 miles across, so we tucked the scooter up for the night in one of the many motorbike bays in St Helier to carry on exploring the following day.Day three took us inland to Jersey Lavender, a farm we wanted to visit last year but couldn't find a parking space.No such problems with a scooter!From there we re-joined the cost road to the lighthouse at La Corbiere, and after a brief stop to head on up the west coast past St Ouen's bay.There is a 50 mph speed limit on Jersey, and it’s true to say that with such gorgeous scenery you don't really want to go any faster.We stopped off at Plemont bay on very edge of the north coast for lunch, with a view out to Guernsey, Herm and Sark.The ruins of Grosnez Castle were our final stop for the afternoon, before heading back into town for a pint with Michael and Peter, also from the scooter club, and their wives.They told us that they head across to France for rallies on a fairly regular basis, but that the island is hoping to host a rally of their own in the not too distant future.Friday morning dawned grey and rainy, but we were reluctant to give in and get the bus, so as soon as the sun began to appear we headed out east to La Hougue Bie, an amazing site consisting of a huge mound with a neolithic tomb under it, a medieval chapel on top, and (you guessed it) a German bunker.The tomb is spectacular and very peaceful inside, but with a ceiling height of only about 4 ft at the entrance it's not one for the claustrophobic.Luckily low ceilings present few problems for Rick and myself.The bunker is open to the public as a memorial to the Soviet slave workers who were brought to the Channel Islands if they were too young or old for conscription, many of whom were worked to death on Jersey or died in the concentration camp on Alderney.It's a strangely forgotten chapter of history, and a very poignant reminder of the atrocities that happened on UK soil.Our final stop on Friday afternoon was the village of Gorey on the east coast, overlooked by the spectacular Mont Orgueil Castle, which has protected Jersey from French invasion for 600 years.The JSC meet every Sunday morning at the Albert Pier for a ride out followed by a trip to the pub, but a late night before for quite a lot of members meant there were only 6 scooters out when we joined them.All Vespas though, so nobody broke down, and the club kindly shortened their usual route a little to give us time to catch our plane.We left them a goody bag of SSLSC merch courtesy of the committee. The club were all very welcoming and friendly, and all rightly very proud of their island and their club.And LQQTTAD SC?That stands for 'Lets Quote Quadrophenia Ten Times A Day Scooter Club', and why not?On Jersey, scootering is very much a way of life.Thanks to JSC aka LQQTTAD SC, especially Michael Fitzgerald and Peter Godfray.

The prom of Mr Ryan Watson

Western Front Tour 2015Lions, led by donkeys.................

Foreword.Personally, I found the images in the following videos very moving. I hope you all enjoy watching them as much as I did compiling them. Many thanks to Mike Howells and his band of brothers-lest we forget!Day 1Saturday morning 30th May 2015 0700 The Barn.Mrs S dropped me off with more than a hint of sarcasm, I jumped into a van driven by the Granda, Spike to his side, Hooty Owl driving the other, with the Craven Arms Massive at his side, the Wem collective making their own way down by car. The sun shone, we made good time, we were ahead of schedule. The Wem massive dropped the car off at the fire station hoping and praying it wasn’t going to be used as a Road Traffic Accident training vehicle! The Wem boys, (well me and Jon Jones) hid in the back of the van until Dover as vans don’t come with four seats! And before we knew it the Battelfield tour of The Somme and Ypres was on.The fun started in Calais as Jon and Doug (officially being foot passengers) had to walk off. We lost them, and after several trips round an Island (Islands figure largely in this tale) we were once again reunited, me in the back and Jon resuming solitary.Off to Peronne , an uneventful trip apart from the detour made by Mike Granda which allowed Doug to speculate on the efficiency of French Potato farming techniques via our non-AutoRoute road usage. A few changes of personnel in the back of the van made the 1.5 hour trip more tolerable. We arrived at the Hotel in Peronne tired, and after Hooty had arrived happy until we found out that the hot water wasn't working. Strangely Hootyowl (our resident plombier) wasnt keen on helping our French cousins Mr and Mrs Patel. No matter, we were in France! A drink was beckoning, so was food-a rather jolly few beers followed by even jollier food then to bed .............what could possibly go wrong?Well no. 1 the weather! It was pissing down-scoots off the van waterproofs on. Even Jon Jones was mobile after his liquid diet of the night before. All the Lambos fired up a crescendo of lovely burbles coughs splutters and bangs but what’s happening? The trusty reliable Vespa of Monsieur Granda not firing ........tickle the plugs , play with the petrol and boom shak alacka, it was working. Off we set, the roads glistening with the first rain for days. Off we shot from the start up to what was known over the next few days as ‘Granda corner’.From behind all I could see were two Vespas flailing on the floor and Mike G white as a sheet. The hot sunny days preceding our arrival had turned the road into a slippy surface, and Mike had slipped, and he came off. Shaken but luckily only pride and the Vespa metalwork dented.Jon Jones too, on his trusty steed had also taken a tumble only weeks after dumping him on his arse. Never mind, a quick rest and off we went this time a wee victim of Hooty Island succumbed, why? The Hoot just seemed to throw his Lambretta down Jeremy Clarkson in Vietnam style then walk over it, again a victim of slippyness. That now made us ride round any corner like 80 year old grannies. Never mind, off to Memetz wood, the site of a huge Welsh massacre of young lives. Seale and Granda nearly didn’t make it though. Granda's Vespa not feeling right after the crash decided to keep its spark to itself, it stopped-but because of the rain I suspect nobody looked back.The Lambo toolkit and Mikes spare CDI saved the day, and off we went. After five mile or so found the boys relaxing by the side of the road near a memorial to the Devonshires-they were wondering where we were after two French teenagers flashed their lights and sounded their horns at our comrades like some modern day electric emergency carrier pigeons. We got to Memetz, paid our respects, and went for some lunch.Next objective the crater at Lochnegar where we met a dog who was later to nearly cause Jon Jones to lose his steed again. Then again on Jon straight just after dog cemetrey, by a wayward French motorist who obviously hated anything English, smoky or Italian made. Hooty's Scooter had by now got fed up with the lack of love shown by Hooty and it tried to escape bit by bit starting with the stand spring . REME Ellison who was by now Hooty's specialist kick starter ............bungeed the black monster back together. The weather returning back to base via Tommys cafe and WIFI experience was long and wetter than .......an otter pocket according to Dougie (Dougie provided us with many Dougisms an appendix of which is available).But what do eight soggy scooterists do in France after a Sunday lunch where fish and chips were conspicuously removed from the menu? Why, we visit the local museum where a great collection of WW1 artefacts were well displayed in a sub terranean ex air raid shelter museum, which is located handily next to the fallen Madonna with the falling baby-a gunners target ranging edifice on the front of the local church ........ So we returned to base wet but happy and then what? When In France you eat ?Not in Peronne not on a Sunday, nothing moves. We had a few cheeky beers then food gastronimic extravaganza ?Nope one of the best kebabs I've ever had with some strange Samurai sauce ......................

Day 2The sun shone! French petrol was put into all the scoots except mine and Jons-he didn’t like Tuesdays apparently, and my baby doesn’t like French fuel! Then it was up the road, left at Granda and straight over Hooty Island-this time looking more proficient. Me and Spike then played with our respective videos for some for/aft scooter action on the way to two large cemeteries, one at Bernafy Wood, and the other at Devilles wood, where many, many South Africans lost their lives. We returned back to the hotel where the owner Mr Patel was most pleased to tell us the pump had been fitted but me and Hooty still couldn’t have hot water. Hooty acquiesced and went into the bowels of the hotel where he discovered a valve hadn’t been switched on! Well done Hooty, plombier extrordinaire. So, a fond farewell to Peronne. So, what best way to leave? Jon Jones by now our resident dietician-drink thats the best way! Well luckily a local took pity on us and directed us to what frankly was the shittiest pub I've ever been in! I don’t think that many people had visited the place since VE day!!!! Our final meal was a return to the meat feast of Saturday night, tanks were filled, Jon even had some solids-a rare experience for his digestive tract.

Day 3 Tuesday, time for the boys to move on to pastures new after a visit to the Peronne Somme museum. Unfortunately, our visit coincided with two busloads of French OAP's. Hooty, missing only an umbrella, took us forward past the assembled throng and into battle. Much talk was made of shall we ride to Ypres, shan’t we? We didn’t in the end the weather looked a tad inclement The hotel at Ypres (well actually the hotel at the Hooge crater), looked initially worrying, with one half of the accommodation block torched ........No matter the Hooty had got us the des res accommodation in the brand new block-a perfect room, great wifi and a bloody lovely shower. The Wem massive even got a bath so Doug could play with is rubber duck (well that’s what he told us)! So we needed food, the Hooge crater cafe was where we partook-we went back to the hotel. Granda by now buzzing as he hadn’t fallen off or broken down for 48 hrs wanted to zip into town-Jon Jones had 'discovered' a crate of Heineken which was all alone in a separate dining room that despite only being set for six, Jon was convinced was for the eight of us !!!! Myself and Spike went with Mike and found a lovely little bar in the grand market and a bar with a Brit serving-wifi, beer and much, much, more. The delights of this little bar were to appear later ...... The rain (drizzle-the annoying type) arrived not long after, together with Andy who walked there I think as part of his Duke of Edinburgh gold award scheme (he’s already got a gold award for packing every colour Fred Perry T Shirt into a bag the size of a handbag ). We rode back again like old grannies-cobbles, sixty year old shopping bikes, and beer don’t mix well.That night I decided to drive us into town to keep the pennies down.Andy had been there for two hours on his own-it was far to say he was completely mullered! We had to catch up, they did, but NO CHINESE was open it was shut, Kebab for everyone. Then it was back in the van, back to base with some erotic parking for the morning.

Day 4 Gorgeous, the best day of all, except we lost Andy, who stupidly went to the petrol station that we'd all agreed the night before we would use the day after-we lost him! That’s the trouble with good ideas, they can go wrong especially when straight on means straight on not turn right!!!!!! We (Hooty) was on a mission to see the graves of the poor lads shot for assumed cowardice at Poperinge-we even found their graves. Very moving. Andy found us, we rested, had a sarney, then off to what was for me the most moving of locations at Tyne cott. Literally as far as the eye could see, the dead flowers of an English generation, gone, wasted forever, slaughtered in their prime, there's no other word for it. Well, after that we needed a drink-back to Ypres where the most amazing vision with a double DD cup I've ever seen decided to serve us beer in the Belgian sunshine...........bliss. Thus started a drinking session properly supported by a Taxi trip , the sun shone, we were warm, and life was good, very good! The session was frankly just what being in ascooter club is about, talking about grease nipples, DD cups , cleavages , taking the piss, taking the piss some more, then maybe discussing the relative merits of a Lambretta (loads) v a Vespa (none) and all with seven other guys I hardly knew five days before. Eating and being merry, the wurzels (Craven Arms Massive) sang their song, the most miserable waiter in the world served the most miserable chinese in the world, and I had a phone call that meant I had to dip out of the trip back home.....

Day6 Our final day ruined by a Targa tantrum. Up early with a cracking breakfast, sun blazing, we decided to visit hill 62 one of the highest vantage points for miles around and an area where Canada's finest lost more of their youth. The beauty of Hill 62 was the trenches that had been left intact since the Armistice. On the way there, the Wee Beastie had performed flawlessly, it decided though to show all the signs of dodgy plugs. So, whilst the others were yomping round the trenches, two new plugs were fitted. She started first kick, revved her tits off all, ok then? Nah! Anyway, suffice to say our first and only casualty was the Targa, it was sent to the rear and Spike ferried me into town for a fags and booze shopping trip. Alas I couldn’t see Spikes new dirtbuster whilst mounted. I'm told though, his mudflap was that low on the ground with me on the back, that we created grooves from the castellations in the dust .......never mind..... Two beautiful DD's ( I know I have a boobie fixation for which I blame Doug) and a few cheeky beers and this time we were off to a sleepy Belgian village just outside of Ypres, no fuss, no graves just a little bar with eight guys who'd made this pilgrimage, was it worth it ? You bet. I hear the trip home the following day wasn’t too good. I went to Antwerp by train, The naughty Targa went home via Spike ...... Were the lions led by Donkeys? Debate still goes on 100 years after the start of the war, titled mens' pawns in a game of real life chess? Most definitely, but we owe each and every soldier, cook and nurse who died there our unerring thanks for what is the ultimate sacrifice. Thanks Hooty. Some video and great pics exist of this little trip, no animals were hurt during the filming and nobody was seriously hurt. This is what the scooter clubs of the sixties used to do so well, trips into unknown waters, a great laugh and the smell of two stroke on your clothes at night.Well done all involved with the organisation-it takes a lot of planning, lots of moaning, but above all it needs the members to make it. Hooty Owl did his bit, the Severnside Lions did their bit, and I'd like to think we made a few friends along the way-thanks boys .......

Weston Super Mare 3rd. May

When I made the suggestion that Julie and I would love to go to Weston Super Mare rally, I didn't know how far it was from Shrewsbury.“How far is it?” Julie asked. “Not far, I replied “. Well, we soon found out how far it was-144 miles! B & B was booked, that was it, we were going...... Our first weekend scooter rally for, well, in my case, 30 years! We had arranged to travel with the club that's not a club, the CravenArms Massive. To make sure we didn't get cold on the journey, Julie andI layered up, 7 layers to be exact-more layers than an onion! We must have looked like Mr Stay Puff, but we would not get cold😀 We made good time to start with, until Paul Harrop had a little trouble with his exhaust-which turned out to be big trouble! A new exhaust was sourced from a local shop in Bristol, Shukerman (Mark Shuker) worked his magic, and we were off again. We arrived several hours after we expected too, but that's part of the joy that is scootering. B & B checked in, and we were out for food and a few little alcoholic beverages. The weekend passed very quickly, lots to see and admire, including a few scooters! The journey home was not as long, we only lost one along the way. It was a wonderful weekend, we made new friends, and saw a few old ones too. Can't wait ‘til Llandudno to do it all again.Jules. (Morgan Powell)

Coast to Coast 2015

Thanks to Paul Barker for snapping these during the Coast to Coast run on Saturday 18th. April. These pictures were taken at Sedbergh.